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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848208">The Wild Hunt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/MagpieMorality'>MagpieMorality</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fae Sides Prompts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae &amp; Fairies, Folk Tales, Gen, M/M, Multi, Narrated Story, Storytime, kid thomas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:27:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/MagpieMorality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>From this prompt:</p><p>“Have you ever heard of something called "The Wild Hunt?” + anxceitmus?</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders &amp; Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders &amp; Thomas Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fae Sides Prompts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Wild Hunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From this prompt:</p><p>“Have you ever heard of something called "The Wild Hunt?” + anxceitmus?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Storytime, Tommy. Have you ever heard of something called ‘The Wild Hunt?’” Grandpa croaked. Little Thomas shook his head, and found himself pulled off the carpet and into the old man’s lap for the tale.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a magical, terrible thing, Tommy, like of which you’ll only ever see once in your life, if you’re lucky. Lucky enough to get away, that is.” Grandpa smacked his lips thoughtfully, and Little Thomas wondered how long he’d have to wait until he could go back to playing with his toy car on the floor instead. “I saw it once, when I was young see. Heard all the tales from my Maw. We live on ancient land here, Tommy, you know that don’t you? You heard about the pictsies and the will-o’-the-wisps you’re meant to stay away from, haven’t you?” Little Thomas nodded. He liked those stories, even if they were scary sometimes. Maybe this was another one of the same. </p><p> </p><p>“S’it a scary story, grandpa?” He asked, getting comfortable and sticking his thumb in his mouth, eyes wide and rapt. </p><p> </p><p>Grandpa sighed. “A little bit, Tommy. It was scary back then, even if it can’t hurt now. Nought but words, today. They’re long gone, the ones in it, never to return again.</p><p> </p><p>“See when I was a boy there was a dare all the boys in school liked to cycle round. Who could stay out in the elm grove all night without moving or being took. It was tradition, when you turned eleven. What an age to be, eleven. Magical, it was, going up to big school and leaving all the kiddie stuff behind. Or so we thought, until we turned older and realised how silly that was.”</p><p> </p><p>“The story, grandpa?” Little Thomas urged impatiently. Grandpa snorted, bopping him on the nose. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get there, little sapling, don’t you rush me now. It takes some remembering. </p><p> </p><p>I think there were three of us that went that night, though one ran off before we reached the grove in the end. Smart lad. Then it was just me and the other boy, don’t ask because I don’t remember his name, and we sat together on the very edge of the grove. </p><p> </p><p>I’ll take you there one day maybe, Tommy, because it is a special place. Needs to be seen to be believed. Until you’re inside the trees seem normal as you like but inside they stretch up two, three times taller than any tree you ever saw, and at the top they twist in together, like the top of a church spire made of branches. It’s always warm, even in winter. That’s the sign of the Summer Court, y’see. You remember your courts, don’t you lad? No? Well Seelie, that’s the Summers, see. The bright, beautiful ones with all the good intentions in the world. And we know what they say about good intentions. Well, that’s the Fair Folk alright. Now the Unseelie are the Court of Winter. They don’t hold much sway around here; they tend to take the northern land instead, which is a blessed relief let me tell you. Never heard so many children go missing as near a Winter grove.”</p><p> </p><p>Little Thomas squirmed anxiously and Grandpa hugged him tighter. “It’s a good story, Tommy, if you can get through it. Do you want to try?” The boy nodded quickly and the old man smiled proudly. “There’s a brave lad. </p><p> </p><p>The night fell quickly, on account of all the trees and branches keeping out the sun, and yet somehow we both thought we could see the stars. Different stars to what you and I usually see, but there nonetheless. And between the stars, or in front of them; flickering shadows of darkness across the false sky, rippling like they were reflections and we were looking into a pool. </p><p> </p><p>Now what I never told you, nor your father for that matter, is I once had a brother. A few years older than me and wild as the land itself, and he’d gone to the grove once before too. He never came back though, and I was secretly wondering if I’d see him tonight. It was only a child’s wonder really, but I swore all at once I could hear him laughing, but he sounded like a man now, grown the same way I’d grown since he’d vanished. </p><p> </p><p>The other boy I stopped even thinking about, and I stood up to move forwards. He tried to stop me, said there was the sound of horns on the wind and hoofbeats coming, but I didn’t listen. He knew what that meant, and he ran away then too. The Hunt was coming.” Little Thomas gasped and Grandpa nodded seriously. “Yes Tommy, the Hunt. The Wild Hunt. They ride when the white stag comes into his antlers, whenever that may be. On horses finer than any you’ll see on regular ground, with shining gold armour and flags made of the richest materials your eyes could imagine. And that night they came. </p><p> </p><p>I never saw the stag, so he must’ve passed before we showed, or else he was somewhere unseen and they were just coming through the grove on the way there. But I only just moved out of the way before the train came. The knights went first, then the Lords and Ladies and then their King and Queen. I hid, but I never set a foot outside the grove so I didn’t. And when they were nearly all gone I stepped forwards again to watch them vanish among the trees, laughing and talking and playing the sweetest music. </p><p> </p><p>And I heard my brother again. He was suddenly there beside me on a horse, his hair long and wild and his face just as I’d known it, but somewhat older. I wasn’t even surprised to see him; somehow I knew that’s where he would be, had been all along. </p><p> </p><p>Two other Fae stopped with him, all of them more beautiful and strange than any mortal could be. One had rich, dark hair and purple eyes, he was quiet, behind my brother all the while even as he got off the horse to come to me. The third was all smiles, his golden braids shining like pure gold. And in Remus’s hair there was silver now, trailing down in front of his face and his bright, laughing eyes. </p><p> </p><p>He hugged me tight, said how I’d grown, and asked if I was there to join them. The dark one made a face but the golden one came closer, and it felt like sunshine itself on my face when he touched my cheek. The kind of sunshine that burned, mind, and I managed to tell them a firm no. </p><p> </p><p>The golden one looked annoyed but my brother made him move away, and gave me a kiss on the forehead before mounting his horse again. He warned me not to come again if I was to refuse, and rode off. The last I saw of the Hunt was the three of them, an after image that stayed even when I closed my eyes, turned towards each other, bright and wild. I think Remus had chosen well.”</p><p> </p><p>Little Thomas blinked heavily, thumb stuck securely in his mouth. Grandpa pursed his lips. “I think he chose very well. I saw them once again, when I was at my worst. Just shy of an adult and trying to run away, I was. Near the grove I fell, caught my ankle on a fallen log and couldn’t walk. I lay there for a while until night came, and then those same stars showed up again. I never knew whether he came because he knew I needed help or if he was just passing through, but Remus was there again. He bent next to me, and his loves- that was what he called him, his loves- helped poultice my ankle and fetch me water and a little hardtack to fill my stomach. They helped me to the edge of the forest, and that golden one was desperate to keep me again but Remus distracted him, and the dark one held his hands out and pulled them away. I think he was scared of me, in some way. And I was certainly scared of him. </p><p> </p><p>That was the last I saw of any of the Fair Folk with my own two eyes. I escaped once, and survived a second time, and that’s more’n most people get in several lifetimes, so don’t you go expecting nothing now, you hear me? Tommy?” </p><p> </p><p>Little Thomas’s eyes were shut and his breathing slow, thumb slipping out of his mouth as he slept. The old man smiled, stroking his cheek tenderly and leaning back in the chair. He glanced out of the window, noting the sun setting on the hills. A flicker of a shadow and the faintest hint of laughter were the only hints that anyone else may have been listening. </p><p> </p><p>Roman smiled, lifting a hand to wave, knowing full well that it would be seen. Just because he had never seen the Fair Folk again did not mean they weren’t there, after all. </p>
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